


Jeremy in Canada

by BeaRyan



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jeremy escaped Bass's execution order, he moved to Canada and tried to build a new life.  (One shot, possible PWP.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeremy in Canada

Jeremy stared out the window at the still falling snow and his mind drew the word “Fuck” out into three syllables. FFFF-UUUUU-CCCKKK. Why hadn't he gone south? 

“Because you got dysentery in Raleigh and they have mosquitoes the size of robins,” his subconscious snarked. 

“Fine,” he thought back, “Then why not west?” 

“Dustbowl, flooded Mississippi, Packers fans.”

Jeremy never won these arguments with himself. His subconscious was smarter than his conscious mind by at least two PhDs. It had wanted to bail on the Monroe Republic for the last three years. His conscious mind, however, was both loyal and concerned that Bass would come all the way off the rails without someone to shove him upright when he started tipping off track. Fucking Randall. The crazy train should never have been driving that fast. 

He saw the moose ambling out of the forest and knew Marie Claire wouldn't be far behind. She reminded him of the girl he'd broken up with at the end of college. In both cases, they had a decent sex life and not much else in common. Marie Claire pretended not to know English, generally refused to speak it, but one day as he'd been pounding her pussy and spewing dirty talk she'd looked at him and said, “Stop talking about fucking my ass and do it already.” Sometimes he wondered if he loved her. Could you love someone if all you ever did together was fuck and shiver while it snowed? Spring would be interesting. 

She let herself in without knocking and snow blew in with her. It melted slowly in the draft near the door and more quickly the closer to the fire it landed. She hung the rope around the rabbits' feet on the hook by the door and stomped her boots three times, knocking the white chunks off to puddle on the hardwood floor before announcing, “J'ai froid. Me chauffer.” “I am cold. Warm me.” She'd brought dinner. It was the least he could do. 

He quickly stripped off her clothes and laid a blanket on the hearth. The fire warmed bricks were a pleasant temperature, but hell on the knees. He buried his face in her sex, making quick work of the preliminaries and holding his hand closer to the fire to warm it before sliding two fingers deep into her. The nice thing about fucking the same woman again and again was that he knew her shortcuts. He curled his fingers upward inside her, beckoning her orgasm while he worked her clit with his tongue. 

“Oui. Oui. Mon Dieu!” she screamed. “Yes, yes, God,” he mentally translated. 

He'd have his turn later, but for now he just wanted it done. His side by the fire was blazing hot, the other was frozen, and he had rabbits to skin and cook. He missed restaurants. Canada was better than being dead, but it wasn't Philadelphia. At least in Philly he didn't have a moose critically eying his technique through the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Crit con and casual chat are both welcome.


End file.
